Divine Mother

This poem came to me after a series of extraordinary events that marked the beginning of my conscious return to the feminine.

In 2019, I found myself unexpectedly asking Eckhart Tolle a question in front of hundreds of people. I asked about dreams. He suggested I find a Jungian dream analyst, which I did. That conversation, and the dreamwork that followed, changed everything.

Later that year, I was in Peru when I received a command from somewhere beyond: Write your story. It felt divine, almost unbearable in its intensity. I returned home and began writing. What started as a memoir slowly revealed itself as something much larger—a collective remembering of the feminine and how she has been silenced, broken, and, still rising.

Then came a dream that circled me back to the beginning; shortly after that dream came this poem.

Divine Mother became the map I would later use to structure my memoir. It’s the song I didn’t know I knew.

____________________________________________________________________________

I imagine

the beginning

like this

Woman

walked the earth

naked

unabashed

Man

saw Woman

saw the divine light

within her

And he loved her

they became

one

I imagine

the middle

like this

Man

tasted envy

fear

power

wanted more

wanted all

He invaded

her private

abode

Erected

his flag

upon her flesh

slashing

seeding

sewing shut

Claimed as his

her skin

her hair

her womb

And he hated her

they became

master and slave

I imagine

the now

like this

Woman

wounded

bleeding

bruised

And yet

her light

divine it shines

in the darkest

of nights

Man

suckles at

her teat

bites her

wants her

has lost his way

back to her

They are

together

worlds apart

I imagine

the tomorrow

like this

Her bleeding

stops

wounds heal

scars remain

He sees her

once again

for the first time

Each see

The light of the world

In the other

They become

as one

whole

____________________________________________________________________________

Divine Mother became the root of what I now call Conscious Feminism. In the coming weeks, I’ll be exploring the themes of this poem—through story, history, and spirit.

As the feminine reawakens,
Sayeh